Stranglehold
by Mary Jane Parker
Summary: A short look at Tara, Sam, and Maryanne written before the S2 premiere.


"You can spend the night at my place."

Every night it was the same. He drove Tara back to Maryann's, because that was what she asked and had he tried anything different she would have called the cops. That was just Tara's way and though Sam was sure that Sookie and Lafayette had the privilege of being the only two people on Earth to ever win an argument with her, that didn't often stop him from trying.

"You can spend the night," he repeated. Sam stopped just below the drive, the headlights of his truck on and illuminating the house in front of them. The alabaster columns and perfectly manicured lawn put his own home to shame. He could admit that, even if he wasn't normally one to compare his own standings to others. His trailer back behind Merlots was enough for him, but he could see why Tara might choose the place that resembled her namesake instead. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"Naw, Sam." _She'll set sparks if she grabs her things any faster_, he thought, watching her shove the contents of her purse back inside. She'd made a big fuss the entire way home, taking out a wallet, lipstick, a ticket stub and talking about how she couldn't find the one tube of lip gloss she was looking for. Tara was a creature of habit and she did the same thing every night. A search for lip-gloss precluded any chance of conversation, and Sam knew she planned it that way. "This is you driving me home from work because Sookie's car is out, not anything else. I didn't ask you to. And what did I tell you back at the bar? I told you that you weren't gettin' your dick—"

Sam held up a hand quickly. "I heard you the first time. In fact, I think everyone up at the counter did." She never had been one much for propriety.

"Good." Tara yanked at her bag's zipper, trying to force it closed. "'Cause I was serious. This driving thing was not an invitation for you to try something. You're with me, then soon as that vampire leaves Sookie it's back to her. Then he's back and you're offerin' to drive me places. I see how it is."

"What happened to 'this doesn't mean anything'?"

"It doesn't mean anything, and that's why I ain't stayin' at your house tonight."

Their eyes locked on each other across the cab of the truck and instantly, like almost everything between then, it turned into a competition. Who would look back towards Maryann's house first?

Tara won. "What's your problem with her, anyway?" she asked.

"It's complicated." Sam shrugged. "You wouldn't understand."

"I understand that when my mama –you know, my own flesh and blood—threw me out, she offered to help me. Didn't want nothing in return either. She's trying to help me find a job and a place to stay and everything." Her lips twisted into a scowl. "Means I _don't_ have to impose on you."

"And you'd rather impose on someone you barely know?" he couldn't keep the sarcasm from seeping into his voice, even if he didn't necessarily mean anything by it. "C'mon Tara, I'll sleep on the couch if you want me to."

It was as if she was ready for him to reach over and try to touch her arm, because when he did, she'd already moved it halfway to the door. Tara yanked it open and swung her feet around to slide out. Next thing Sam knew the door was closed and she was leaning on the sill, poking her head through the opened window and still glaring at him. "She's a nice woman, Sam. I don't know what your problem is, but I'm sleeping here tonight, and every night 'till I find a place of my own-- and let me tell you, it'd help if I got a raise. Thanks for drivin' me back, but that don't mean you get to court me like this is some wartime shit. This house don't make me no Southern Belle. You got that?"

"Tara…"

"What?"

But he wasn't going to beg. "Nothing. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No you won't. It's my day off." She didn't have to sound so damned igleeful/i about it. "And Maryann said Sookie's welcome to come over, so we'll be sittin' out by the pool."

"So she's telling you which of your friends can come over now?"

"No, but seeing as it's her house—"

"--Looks more like a plantation to me."

"Seein' as it's _her_ house, I thought it'd be polite to ask before I dragged people over. She ain't so bad." Tara looked about ready to spit nails and Sam knew he'd probably stepped over a line with his last remark, but she'd brought it up. A weak excuse, but it was better than just admitting he'd been a jackass. He'd do that later, when she wasn't standing right there. It was going to be soon enough, anyway. Tara hit the side of his truck and muttered something that sounded like 'goodbye' and 'fuck you' surrounded by a few dozen other expletives before she started stalking up the driveway to Maryann's, illuminated by the glow of his headlights.

Sam waited until she was out of sight to bang his head down onto the steering wheel. He felt as if that was the least he could do and not look like a fool if she decided to turn back around. But Tara seemed to have all but forgotten he was there. She kept walking up the drive, eventually reaching the front porch. She didn't even turn around to wave and let him know that she'd be getting in alright and when the door closed Sam wondered if he'd finally managed to truly piss her off.

"She's right, you know. I ain't _that_ bad, puppy."

"Get the hell away from me."

"Says the one on my property?" Her voice was smooth and calm where Tara's had been pure venom by the time they'd parted. Sam watched as Maryann slipped into the passenger seat, her presence and actions far too calm to be setting Sam as on edge as they were. Tara would have thought him paranoid, but then Tara didn't know.

She was the kind of woman someone might call a cougar, if they didn't know any better. Wrong species, of course, but the description was apt. Maryann was far too good looking for her age; Sam didn't like her, but he could admit that much and had it been anyone else slipping into his car, he might have felt lucky. But not her. "You've been paid."

Maryann nodded with a grin. "I have, and I bought a new Mercedes, thank you, but you know that isn't all I want," she said. "Do we really have to go over this again? Come home, Sam. We can forget how you ran off, stole our savings, never called, never wrote… but you need to come back. The longer you ignore me, the longer I've got your little girlfriend."

"You were listening, so you know she's not my girlfriend." It wasn't exactly the most morale boosting of retorts.

"I was listening," Maryann admitted, grin only widening. "Enough to know that you're going to be very put out if something happens to her. So why don't you go home and do some thinking, puppy, and we can talk again soon. Hopefully before I get hungry."

She slid out of the truck as easily as she'd slipped in and assumed Tara's former position, leaning against the sill. "Think about it. And don't run off again. I'll find you." She would. This was the second time already.

A rustling in the woods to either side of her driveway was the only indication of the direction she'd taken off in, and it wasn't conclusive enough to warrant Sam taking off after her. What would he do if he found her anyway? He didn't know the answer to that and he wasn't sure he wanted his hand forced on the subject. And so when a reddish grey fox dashed in front of his headlights, he didn't even move to attempt to hit it. Could've been a different fox; a perfectly innocent one. Could've been that Maryann had chosen some other form. That was the problem, she had far too many of them up her sleeve.

And Tara was living in her house.

The thought of telling her the truth had crossed Sam's mind for three seconds earlier that evening, but when he'd remembered that initial look of revulsion of Sookie's face –and that had come from a girl dating a vampire-- that idea was pushed far to the side where it belonged. His past had been bound to catch up with him, it always did. It was his own damned fault that this time he'd gotten someone caught up in it.

Maryann would find him again, but she wasn't going to do it in Bon Temps.

Sam reached down to put the car in reverse, stopping only when the familiar strains of some old Ted Nugent song started playing out of his glove compartment.

"Hello?"

"What the _hell_, Sam? There a reason you're still sitting in my driveway?"

"I'm leaving right now, Tara. And it's not your driveway."

"_Good_," she shot back, and if possible her voice sounded angrier. "Flashin' his fuckin' headlights and acting like this is some goddamned horror movie…"

Sam wondered if he'd actually been meant to hear that last bit before she hung up, but didn't waste too much time worrying himself over it. Tara would be Tara, but at least for now she was safe.


End file.
